


Relief

by LeastExpected_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Drama, Interspecies Relationship(s), M/M, Multiple Partners, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-04
Updated: 2002-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:49:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26294413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeastExpected_Archivist/pseuds/LeastExpected_Archivist
Summary: by Victoria BitterLegolas helps Pippin realize a truth about time and love and taking chances.
Relationships: Legolas Greenleaf/Pippin Took, Merry Brandybuck/Pippin Took
Kudos: 5
Collections: Least Expected





	Relief

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Amy Fortuna, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Least Expected](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Least_Expected), which has been offline since 2002. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Least Expected collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/leastexpected/profile).
> 
> Disclaimer: All the characters, places, and funny words belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, but what they're doing with each other belongs to me.  
> Feedback: Yes, please, esp. constructive crit.  
> Story Notes: A response to the Legolas/Pippin Sex Ed challenge.

Why couldn't they all just sleep normally? Pippin scowled and shifted beneath his blanket, a tiny mew of discomfort escaping his throat. Cool grey-green eyes shot towards him at even that small sound, and he quickly jammed his eyes shut tight, hoping that he hadn't been seen even while recognizing that he surely had.

It was ridiculous. For the fourth night, they had grounded the boats and slept at the forest's edge on the banks of the Great River, and for the fourth night, Legolas had stood like a statue carved half of stone and half of water, somehow at once graceful and still and ever-watchful. He never seemed to sleep, never even to nod, as though he drew his rest from vigilance itself. It was disconcerting to the young hobbit, and awkward besides. Pippin knew of the Elf's keen senses, saw the way that his eyes glinted, darting towards every stray sound and movement with precision as sharp as the arrows always slung over his back. He felt it sometimes a wonder that he could get away with breathing itself under that inscrutable gaze.

Not that it would be so much a trouble if he himself could sleep. If that were so, then Legolas could watch him all he wanted, gain whatever Elvish satisfaction the strange archer drew from watching Halflings snore. Only he couldn't sleep, and for the best and worst possible reason.

The four hobbits were gathered, as was their custom, near the faint warmth of the fire's embers, sleeping together in what Boromir had once described, with uncertain humour, as 'one great heap of cloaks and curls and furry little feet.' Sam, as always, had one arm curled protectively over Frodo, and Pippin wondered why he was no longer disturbed about the wandering of their hands in sleep - Sam's to the hilt of his sword, Frodo's to the Ring at his chest. Perhaps it was because his mind was occupied by greater troubles than the dark changes in his simple, peaceful friends. Troubles like Meriadoc Brandybuck.

The other hobbit was curled tight against him, nearly crawling over him, in fact, with one leg falling over his and one arm lying loose on Pippin's hip. He could feel the warm breath in his hair, and occasionally, Merry would murmur and stir in his sleep, always drawing tighter against Pippin. The young hobbit didn't pretend to be wizard nor Elf, but one didn't need to be to know that Merry was also dreaming. Very _involving_ dreams. The proof and the problem lay in those dreams, and in the resulting erection unmistakably pressing into Merry's hip with every shift and sigh.

It was hard enough sleeping with Merry so near, but this complicated matters immeasurably. Heedless of his desperate mental admonishments, his own body had responded quite enthusiastically, and the unsatisfied desire had grown into a dull ache, finally banishing all hope of rest. If he could just dare to touch himself, take care of it quickly and quietly, it would be so much easier. At this state of arousal, it would just be the work of bare minutes, but even seconds were too much to snatch from their unblinking watchman. He couldn't even pretend, as he had hoped, to simply shift in his 'sleep' away from Merry's unconscious embrace, for despite the slivered moon and dim starlight, Legolas would surely see the erection bulging his trousers and know.

Again Merry mumbled something, and Pippin took a slow, deep breath. How did he manage to make somnolent babble sound so erotic, like the words of a lover muffled against flesh rather than drooling dream-spill? Then Merry shifted again, just slightly, and Pippin froze, no longer daring even to breathe. Merry's lips were against the back of his neck now, warm and soft and...

"I may never understand Halflings."

Pippin's eyes flew open, and he yelped in shock. Legolas had crossed the camp as silently as a thought, and now he was crouched mere inches away, hands loose on his thighs and head tilted curiously. Feeling as if his cheeks would soon burst with the flush of embarrassment, the young hobbit tried to crawl his fingers towards the edge of the blanket, intending to pull it down over his groin, but the Elf's eyes flickered unfailingly towards his actions, and he shook his head slightly, speaking softly so as not to awaken the others. "That's not going to help you."

"What?" The whisper seemed several octaves above his normal speech, and he coughed lightly, trying to force his voice down to some semblance of calm. The only good thing in this horrid development was that Legolas's face held neither ridicule nor scorn. "What?"

"You're aroused." There was a hint of the obvious in the statement, and Pippin didn't entirely blame him for that. "You need to come before you can sleep properly."

Pippin gasped at the Elf's bluntness, jerking the blanket down over himself. "I'm fine."

Legolas sighed. "You and the other Halflings tire more easily than the rest of us. It is quite understandable, but you need to rest. As long as you allow yourself to remain in that state and deprive yourself of sleep, you put us all at risk. I would suggest that you move away from Merry, if your worry is of waking him, and see to it as soon as possible."

"All right." Pippin slipped carefully out from under his friend's grasp, wanting nothing more than to get this surreal conversation over with before the unthinkable happened and Merry awoke. Hurrying past Legolas without looking at him, he moved to the edge of camp and stood facing the woods, his hands suddenly paralyzed at the fastenings of his trousers. His head fell, and he stood, shame-faced, as Legolas's tall, lithe shadow approached from behind.

"Is something wrong?"

"I can't." He barely managed to whisper the words, his chest suddenly burning as his throat tightened.

"You cannot tell me that Halflings don't touch themselves. You tried to begin the matter eight times tonight." There was a pause, then Legolas circled around to face him, and Pippin was surprised to see a new softness to the beautiful, ancient eyes. "Or is it your thoughts that stay your hand?"

Unable to speak, Pippin nodded, fighting to restrain the tears that had sprung, unbidden and unwanted, to his eyes. Then, to his amazement, Legolas was holding him, lean-muscled arms surrounding him gently. Graceful fingers stroked through his hair, the weave of the silver-green tunic was as soft as dandelion fluff beneath his cheek, and he could hear beneath it the strangely slow, soothing rhythm of the Elf's heart. He swallowed hard, trembling as he fought down the threatening sobs, his fingers clutching at the warm flesh beneath the elegant tunic as if trying to hold onto his very heart.

The cold-eyed warrior was nowhere to be found as Legolas rocked gently, soothing the young hobbit with quiet murmurs in his own silken language, nonsense to Pippin's ear, but soft nonsense, nonsense that seemed to contain the wisdom of the ages and bundle up all his tears to carry them benevolently away. At last, when Pippin's shivering had finally eased, he drew back slightly, looking the hobbit in the eyes as he spoke again in the Common Tongue. "Now there, little one, hush. There is no need for shame, no more for this than for hunger or thirst or chill. Here now..."

Nimbly, Legolas unfastened Pippin's trousers, and the long fingers slipped inside, closing around his hungry cock with a surety that made the hobbit gasp. His hips bucked forward, but the Elf's other hand was at his back, guiding him in a steady rhythm against his hand as his skilled fingers glided and circled, sending pleasure like lightning licking fire up Pippin's spine. Against his small body, Legolas's hand seemed as enveloping as the night, his palm resting against the base of Pippin's belly as those artful fingertips danced delight on the sensitive head.

Through the fringe of his eyelashes, fluttering low on half-closed eyes, he could see Legolas's face painted silver in the moonlight, and he realized for the first time how incredibly, eloquently beautiful he was: almost too pretty to be real. So different from Merry's plain features, but somehow, to Pippin's surprise, not nearly as desirable, and as this Prince of angels pleasured him so sweetly, he found himself thinking of Shire summers wrestling in grass up to their chests, of stories at the hearth at bedtime and Merry's face in the firelight, of blackberry tarts and Merry's lips stained to wine. Legolas was art, but Merry was home, and it was for home that his heart longed now, so far away in this dark and barren land.

The tightness in his groin began to shudder, blossoming over his entire body as Legolas moved swifter now, his movements somehow ever lissome no matter how erotic their effect. Pippin's body arched back against the supporting strength of the Elf, and then there was a burst of glorious sensation that seemed to envelop his entire being with a indulgence beyond possibility. He came hard, the tears spilling now to his cheeks as he cried out the name of his beloved, softly and hungrily into the night.

Then it was over, and he fell, boneless and exhausted, into Legolas' arms. His heartbeat hammered in his ears and his breath came in gasps, but most of all, he ached with a pain far deeper than the simple physical discomfort that had kept him awake before. Only now, with the touch of another still singing in his blood, did he realize how desperately he longed for Merry in ways that friendship didn't begin to satisfy. He had tried to bury the thoughts, dismiss them as simply the responses of a youthful body to the arousal of another, but such lies were not to be condoned by his heart, and he knew now.

He loved Merry. Completely, despairingly, hopelessly.

After a moment or an hour, he felt Legolas brush aside the curls that clung sweat-damp to Pippin's forehead. "I may never understand Halflings." He seemed to be speaking as much to himself as to the hobbit in his arms, and Pippin simply let his hands stroke down the waterfall of gilt silk falling down Legolas's back, combing his hands through the flaxen strands as the Elf spoke. "I watch you suffer, and young Samwise as well, both of you despairing in love, yet unwilling to act to relieve your own pain."

Pippin blinked, his hands frozen in surprise. "Are you suggesting that Sam loves me?"

A soft chuckle rocked Legolas's chest. "No. But he yearns after Frodo, even as you desire Merry, and both of you too frightened or too blind to chance a love returned or denied."

Somehow, hearing of Sam's shared pain came as no surprise to Pippin, but nor did it come as comfort. He understood it too well. "We...I...Merry is my dearest friend, and I fear..." He paused, trying to force the words past the wrenching ache they caused, "I fear that should I tell him, and he refuse me..." Pippin gulped, and now the tears flowed fresh as he forced the whisper of the fear that haunted his nights and darkened his dearest dreams. "I would be so terribly alone."

Legolas sighed, and Pippin wondered if it was with sympathy or rebuke. "But what a price you pay for your security!"

He paused, lifting Pippin away from him a moment as he leaned back cross-legged against the trunk of a tree, then settled the hobbit again in his lap. Pippin fit quite neatly in the circlet of those long, slender legs as Legolas looked down at him, a sad smile on his lips. "I am an Elf, and as such, I have lived the lives of your elders a hundred times over, and will live them ten thousand times over again. I have taken more lovers than I can easily count, Human and Elf, man and maid, and each is a chapter in my heart or a passing pleasure to my body. One day I will find a mate, and we will have eternity together. But I may spend ten thousand years searching for that, should I so wish. You are not so fortunate, Peregrin Took. Your people live and die like the flowers in the fields, and you cannot afford to waste a moment of the time given to you so dearly. Even now, I feel a darkness approaching, and I sense that the Fellowship will not last much longer. You should tell him your heart, and tell him quickly. To waste the precious time you have would be a far greater ill than any scorn."

"But I'm afraid." The words seemed small sense in the face of such ageless wisdom, but they were the simple truth, and Pippin hung his head in shame at his own cowardice.

Legolas frowned, lifting Pippin's chin with two fingers to stare him directly in the eyes. "You have been afraid of many things on this journey, yet I have seen you overcome your fears again and again. Gandalf spoke truly when he said that there is a great courage in the little hearts of the Halflings. Find now the courage to do this thing, which will mean so much more to your peace than any deed in battle. Go."

Pippin didn't resist as he was lifted to his feet, only stood there, motionless. They were mere paces away from camp, and he could clearly see Merry's shadowed form curled by the now-cold fire. It would be so simple. All he had to do was step over there. _Merry, I have to tell you something..._ Behind him, he heard the faint clatter of arrows in their quiver as Legolas stood, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Go."

He would do it.

His throat tight, his heart pattering desperately in fear, he forced his feet to move leaden across the camp. He expected someone to leap up in accusation at any moment, to cry out his folly...but no one moved. How could they sleep through something so terrifying? So dreadfully important, so potentially shattering? He trembled in fear, yet he could not bring himself to turn back as he knelt at Merry's side, once again rendered helpless by Legolas's watchful gaze.

But Merry's eyes were already open. Pippin gasped, frozen in place, one hand already extended to shake his friend's shoulder. Merry's eyes were open, and they gazed at Pippin with a strange and inscrutable mix of emotion. And oddly, at this moment of terror nearly blinding in its intensity, Pippin's voice was utterly steady. "You heard."

"Yes." Merry sat up, letting the blanket fall from his shoulders, and Pippin watched, numb. Now it would come. The scorn. The hate. The rebuke. It was upon him, and all he could do was crouch there dumbly as the other hobbit's face took on a smile unreal in its warmth. "I heard."

Then Merry's hands were cupping his cheeks, and Merry's lips were on his, gentle and warm and softer than anything Pippin had ever imagined, and Pippin thought that his heart would burst with joy beyond his most fervent dreams. With a far distant corner of his stunned mind, he heard a sound like birds and bells and sunshine as Legolas laughed, and it was right and perfect and yes that was just how it should be. He should laugh. All the world should laugh. All the universe, even.

Because Merry loved him.

He wasn't alone.

And nothing else could ever be truly wrong again.


End file.
